


Stan and Roger Sitting in a Tree...

by Sheogorath



Category: American Dad!
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Underage Sex, Mentions of incest, Mpreg, Parody, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1792969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheogorath/pseuds/Sheogorath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan had never heard of pon farr, and so didn't realise that members of Roger's species go through it. Maybe he should have consulted with his son, Steve, <i>before</i> agreeing to anything, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stan and Roger Sitting in a Tree...

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to base Roger's genitalia on that of a llama. Somebody pass the brain bleach!

## Stan and Roger Sitting in a Tree...

On a fine Sunday morning, as Stan Smith, CIA agent extraordinaire, was trying to read his paper through the tears that his next door neighbour's dog had left in it, he heard grunts, gasps, and moans emanating from somewhere within his house. Thus it was that he got up to find the miscreant and tell them to shut the Sam Hill up.

Searching the first floor and then the second floor, Stan found nothing out of the ordinary except an increase in the noise as he climbed the stairs, then as he entered the attic, he came across Roger rolling around on the floor, making the noises Stan had heard.

"Roger! What's wrong? What is it?"

"Oh, Stan, Stan. I'm dying, Stan. I'm dying."

"Who's responsible? Who shot you?" Stan asked frantically.

"Nobody shot me, Stan, but _you're_ the responsible party."

"How so?" Stan was becoming slightly suspicious.

"Do you remember me telling you about pon farr and how I would die if I went too many cycles without a mate?"

"Well, of course I do, but what has that got to do with you rolling around on the floor and moaning? Stop that! It's distracting."

"I can't, I'm dying."

"Well, what can I do so you don't die?"

"No, it's something that no red-blooded American male is brave enough to do. It doesn't matter. Just leave me to die in peace."

"No, I won't just leave you, Roger! Even I, as a red-blooded American male, am brave enough to do whatever needs to be done to save your life. Now, what do you need me to do?"

"I need you to let me mate with you."

"What?" Stan paled as he imagined alien phallus being inserted back _there_. "Are you sure there's no other way?"

"It's all right, Stan. Leave me."

"No, I can't just leave you to die. I... I will let you mate with me."

With that, Stan began stripping himself of his suit, not seeing the triumphant smirk that crossed Roger's grey face, and he was soon naked, most definitely _not_ standing up to the occasion.

"So, what now?" Within the next moment, the CIA agent had his arms full, and he continued, "Wow, Roger, you're hot!"

"Thank you, Stan. I'm glad you think so."

"No, I mean your temperature is really hot."

"Well, my home planet _is_ icebound. How do you think we stay warm? Now be quiet while I concentrate on forming the necessary bond."

Roger began muttering something in a very harsh sounding language, then he entered his befooled mate with a deep sigh of relief, holding still for several moments before extending his penis further. Stan couldn't help his gasps and shudders as he felt the prehensile schlong wiggle its way along his large intestine, carefully twisting its way through his left splenic and right hepatic flexures before finally coming to an end somewhere in his ascending colon. There were some strange movements deep within him, then the penis began to move back and forth, five or six inches at a time passing through his anus, then after several minutes of this, Roger gave a shuddering cry and released large lumps of jellied semen directly into the CIA agent's appendix, which had somehow been painlessy relocated to the other side of his large intestine. As the lumps of semen passed by Stan's prostate, they triggered his own release, and he was wholly unable to help the shout that passed his lips as his own fluids covered both his and Roger's bellies.

"I hope you realise, Stan, the males of my species mate for life," Roger said once he had got his breath back.

"You mean, I have to do that many times, Roger?" Stan was horrified.

"Not really, about twice a year should do it."

"So I don't have to do that again for another six months?"

"That's correct, Stan."

"Oh, thank God. Maybe Francine won't find out."

"I promise I won't tell her," Roger said, and Stan gave a sigh of relief as he dressed himself again, not hearing the alien add in a mutter, "Not that I'll need to."

✱   ✱   ✱

About four months after his encounter with his alien family member, Stan had put on so much weight that even Francine, his wife, remarked on it one morning in bed.

"You've become very big around the middle, Stan," she said. "Maybe you should go on a diet and take it easy with the beer, hmm, honeybunch?"

"My weight's fine, woman!" Stan snapped, feeling the need to cry for some reason. "And I don't even drink beer unless I've been invited somewhere. You know that hasn't occurred for months now."

"So, you're just gonna be my cuddly little teddy bear?"

"I'll be anything you want me to be, within reason."

"Oh, I love you, Stan!"

"I know you do, Francine. Now let's get up, we've got a big day ahead of us." Stan threw back the covers and stood up, then held onto the bedside cabinet as his vision momentarily went black. "Whoa," he muttered. "Must have stood up too fast."

"Well, just be more careful from now on, okay?" Francine said, then she went into the ensuite bathroom without a care.

✱   ✱   ✱

Two months later, Stan was attending his boss's birthday party with his son, Steve, when he took a sip of his second beer, then put it down again before getting a Pepsi. Although Stan had given Steve permission to drink one beer if he wanted to, the fourteen-year-old had decided to steer well clear, and had thus drunk nothing but soda all evening.

"Come on, Steve. Let's get out of here. This place is deader than Saddam Hussein on Independence Day in 2007."

"Yeah, Dad. All right," Steve replied, chuckling quietly at Stan's over the top comparison. "So, how far are you gone?" he asked as he got into the car.

"What are you talking about, son?"

"Your pregnancy. How far are you gone?"

"Steve, you do know that it's impossible for men to get pregnant, right?"

"Sure, Dad, but Roger explained the special circumstances of his race and how the males can get anyone pregnant. I'm just about three months now." Saying this, Steve rubbed his belly, and for the first time, Stan saw the noticeable bulge above the waistband of his son's chinos. Suddenly realising what the fluttering within his own belly must be, Stan gulped as he continued to drive back to his home.

✱   ✱   ✱

"Roger! ROGER!" Stan yelled as he entered his front door. "Get down here, NOW!"

"What is it, Stan? Oh, wait! It's been exactly six months since our first time, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has. Six months of being pregnant with your child, according to what Steve told me. You managed to knock him up too. You should be arrested for having gay sex with my son."

"Wow! I knew pregnancy was a possibility with just one of you, but both? That just makes me so happy. I'm going to be a father!"

"And the fact that you had sex with a minor doesn't bother you?"

"I was desperate, Stan. I know I told you that I go through pon farr every six months, but that's because you seemed so horrified. I actually go through it four times every year. So, twice each year I sleep with you, and twice each year I sleep with Steve. He seems happy enough."

"Even though he knows there's no such thing as pon farr?"

Roger's eyes narrowed in shock. "How did you find _that_ out?" he hissed.

"Steve told me. He said it's a fictional device from the original series of Star Trek, and was created for an episode where Spock had to return to Vulcan and engage in a mating ritual so he wouldn't die of blood fever."

"And yet Steve still slept with me. Maybe he's not as into girls as he pretends."

"Roger, you told me you were dying!"

"Well, doesn't it feel like _you're_ dying when Francine refuses you and you've got blue balls?"

"Why, yes it does, actually."

"There you go, then."

"You still tricked me, Roger!"

"Calm down now, Stan. You know stress isn't good for the baby."

"I SHOULDN'T BE HAVING A BABY IN THE FIRST PLACE!" Stan bellowed. "THAT'S WHAT WOMEN ARE FOR!"

"Hush now, Stan. Do you want Francine to hear you?"

"Oh, my God. Francine! What's _she_ going to think about me having your baby?"

" _Our_ baby, Stan. It's yours as well."

"You're having a baby, Stan?" Francine asked as she came downstairs, her husband's shouting having woken her. Then she shrugged and added, "Oh, well. Saves _me_ from getting all those stretch marks."

✱   ✱   ✱

Three months later, Stan painfully gave birth to a baby girl with greyish-pink skin, longer than normal arms, and an extra-large head, then another three months after that, Steve gave birth to her half-brother and nephew, who had similar features to his half-aunt. Another nine months later, on their second night together since his second daughter had been born, Stan conceived again, this time with a boy who was almost the spitting image of his older nephew, the only difference being that his hair was black like both of his sisters' rather than brown like his eldest brother's.

In this way, both Stan and Steve added to their family, then when the teen left home after university, he took his children with him, and several years later, his middle son began having children with his youngest sister just like his mother was having them with his eldest brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright © 2014 Romersa's Protégé. Individuals and groups are free to copy and share this work for all purposes except large scale distribution, subject to credit being given and any derivatives being released under the same or a similar licence. All other rights reserved.


End file.
